


Open Door Policy (or The Haven)

by I_am_a_closet_fanfic_fiend



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Feels, Fluff, Mentions of Nightmares, References to being crushed, ish, spoilers for Spiderman:Homecoming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_a_closet_fanfic_fiend/pseuds/I_am_a_closet_fanfic_fiend
Summary: Bucky Barnes has an entire floor to himself in the Avengers Tower. But it’s not for the reason you’d probably think
Kudos: 20





	Open Door Policy (or The Haven)

He could feel the panic rising in his chest as the rubble threatened to crush him. The beam groaned loudly and he knew it was about to give way.

Peter jolted awake before the weight could completely crush him. Momentarily struggling to untangle himself from the blanket, he was panting as he leapt to his feet and sprinted out of the room.

Peter let his feet lead him, not paying attention to where he was going until he slammed into a brick wall of a person. The collision broke into his panicked haze and he his heart rate slow as he looked up at the super soldier he had just bumped into.

“Sorry, Sergeant Barnes.”

“How many times do I have to tell ya to call me Bucky, kid?” he asked with a small smile as he stuck out a hand to help him up.

“Right, sorry, Bucky.”

“No worries. Are you okay, Peter?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Totally fine. You?”

Bucky recognized the darting eyes and the short pants.

“Nightmare?” Bucky guessed.

Peter slumped slightly knowing it wasn’t worth it to lie.

“I was…”

“Trapped,” Bucky finished and Peter’s eyes went wide as he looked up at the older man.

“How did you know?”

“It’s a recurring one for me too. For a lot of us. Come on, why don’t you hang out in my room. I was about to make some hot chocolate and do some stargazing on my balcony with Steve and Sam. Sound good?”

_Balcony._

_Outisde._

_Not trapped._

_Good_ , Peter concluded.

“Sounds good.”

Bucky’s smile was warm and comforting. He gave Peter his space as they walked, but kept up a constant conversation to break the anxiety loop in his brain.

“Whoa,” Peter breathed out when he stepped off the elevator onto Bucky’s floor.

“Not what you expected?” Bucky chuckled as he kicked off his boots and turned on the lights.

“Are you going to be mad if I say no?”

“Of course not. That’s what everybody says.”

Peter still felt a bit bashful.

“What’s that amazing smell?”

“Probably the paprikash Wanda made earlier.” Pulling the lid off a large pan Bucky nodded to himself after a quick look. “Definitely paprikash.”

Peter was confused by Wanda cooking in Bucky’s room but didn’t question it aloud. Maybe something was going on between them? Bucky grabbed a sauce pot off the top shelf and the carton of milk out of the fridge and set them on the stove.

“Feel free to explore. Just don’t touch anything. Not all of it’s mine and I would hate for you to piss off Nat.”

Peter wandered around the room trying to make sense of the mish mash of items. The array of weapons made sense, and even the strings of polaroids. But the small waterfall in one corner and the wide variety of robotics tools stashed in the other seemed wholly out of place.

“Hot chocolate is ready,” Bucky announced. “Do you mind grabbing those two mugs, kid?”

“Sure thing?”

Bucky nudged open the glass doors and Peter was finally able to hear Sam and Steve’s conversation.

“If werewolves existed then I bet they’d all be detectives or doctors.”

“That is a gross generalization.”

“Are we still on this?” Bucky groaned thrusting a mug into Sam’s waiting hand.

“Yes. Because Sam refuses to acknowledge that werewolves would not be defined by their werewolfery.”

“The technical term is lycanthropy,” Peter added as he followed Bucky out and handed Steve the other mug.

“Thanks, kid. I didn’t know you were joining us.”

“I can leave if you want,” Peter offered immediately. 

“Relax, Peter,” Sam smiled and patted the open chair next to him. “Just enjoy casa de Bucky.”

“So what’s your opinion on how werewolves would function in society?”

Peter sipped his hot chocolate as he mulled over his answer.

“Well, it really depends on what lycan biology you believe. Does their condition alter their human form at times other than the full moon?”

That question sparked an hour long debate and completely took Peter’s mind off his nightmare. Until Sam decided to ask how he ended up joining them.

“I umm ran into Bucky in the hallway.”

“Full force,” Bucky muttered under his breath.

“Nightmare?” Steve guessed and Peter flushed.

“We all get them,” Sam assured him. “There’s nothing embarrassing about it.”

“What helps?”

“Usually I’ll play video games. Or I’ll build Lego sets. Sometimes I try going up on the roof to clear my mind but sometimes it’s just…”

He trailed off unsure of how to put was he was thinking.

“More space for the fear,” Steve suggested.

“Yeah. So the big Lego sets help. The intricacy focuses my brain. Tunes out everything else.”

“Makes sense.” Steve nodded to himself. “I sketch when it gets too much. The lines on the page, morphing into a picture. It helps order everything.”

“Have you talked to anyone about the nightmares?”

“Not really. I mean it’s not like you can talk to the guidance counselor about something like this,” Peter shrugged. 

“What about one of the SHIELD psychologists?” Sam asked.

Peter flinched at the word “psychologist”. The three men knew that feeling. They’d all taken time to come around to the idea. 

“You can come talk to me. Any time. Day or night,” Sam offered. “You know that right?”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“Same goes for me.”

“And me.”

Steve and Bucky both agreed.

“And my room is open whenever you need it. Even if I’m on a mission.”

“I have my own room.”

Bucky laughed and swigged the last of his hot chocolate.

“I know. So doesn’t everybody else. Doesn’t stop them from hanging out in here.”

“We’ve all sort of carved out a place in Buck’s floor. I call it a haven. It’s a place where you can come and do your own thing.”

“Whatever makes you calm. You don’t have to talk. But you don’t have to be alone either.”

The robotics tools made sense now. And Wanda making paprikash.

“There’s usually at least one or two people hanging around at any given time,” Bucky explained. “My door is always open.”

“Thanks, Bucky. I appreciate it.”

The next time Peter had a nightmare while he was staying over at the compound he found his way to Bucky’s room, and sure enough when the elevator slid open Clint was playing the drum set from Rock Band and Thor was eating poptarts in the kitchen.

Bucky was snoring from his spot on the pull out couch, oblivious to the noise. But when Peter spoke a soft hi to Clint and Thor, Bucky jolted upright.

“Hey, kid.”

“Sorry to wake you.”

“No worries. Bad one?”

Peter nodded.

“I think I have just the thing. Come on.”

Bucky pushed himself to his feet and crossed in front of the TV being sure to block Clint’s view of the oncoming notes, but he still somehow managed not to miss a beat.

“Jackass.”

Ignoring him, the super soldier led Peter over to the Southwest corner of the floor which had been empty before. Now there was a card table with a rubber top and a cabinet beside it.

“Open it.”

“Whoa. Are these all? Holy crap? The Millennium Falcon. It’s like 7500 pieces.”

He gaped at the large number of Lego sets that sat neatly stacked before him.

“Figured these might get you through a few nights at least.”

“A few. This is awesome. Thank you. Really. Thank you.”

“My pleasure, kid. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Bucky clapped him on the shoulder and started to head for his makeshift bed when Peter asked, “What helps you?”

“Helping people,” he tossed over his shoulder. “However I can.”


End file.
